


Dream SMP one-shots

by SalmonSteak



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Bittersweet, Friend is here :3, Ghost TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), No Dialogue Chapters, Sad and Happy, Shapeshifter Sally, Trans! Fundy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:55:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27920089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalmonSteak/pseuds/SalmonSteak
Summary: A dump of one-shots I guess I'll do from time to time, all usually under 5,000 words if you care. Have any suggestions or something you want to see me write, put it in the comments! I won't do any ship but DNF because I really feel uncomfortable with it and the only reason DNF is ok with me is because both Dream and George are really chill with it. Also have you seen how they act together? They are living in a DNF fanfiction all the time.
Relationships: Ranboo & Toby Smith | Tubbo, Ranboo & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit
Comments: 8
Kudos: 310





	1. Tired

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With the help of his dead friend, Tubbo's gotten Tommy's discs back. But was that really what he needed?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOT A SHIP FIC, it makes them (and me) really uncomfy, thanks :)

Getting to what he heard dubbed as Logstedshire had taken a shorter amount of time then Tubbo expected it to, and even then it was too late. Tommy was gone. He wept and regretted for days. For the things he did do and all the things he did not do. He couldn’t take any of it back, of course, and although he knew there was no use dwelling on it, the thought and memories didn’t stop making themselves known. However, he could make it right again, or as right as it could be, by getting back the one thing his friend cared about the most. The discs. 

No one would help him, of course. Though he hadn’t asked quite yet, he knew no one would. No one wanted to stand against Dream for such an insignificant reason. Tubbo couldn’t blame them, really. Dream was powerful and clever. 

Though he hadn’t ever called himself such, he was the king. The true king. Not Eret nor George. They only held the titles. And Tubbo himself once was the same; he would not go against Dream for anything. Not the discs.

But that was before. Before everything changed. Now nothing could stop him. His citizens- the people of L’manberg had found out what he had done to Tommy. Only a few were on his side after that, and after Fundy and Quackity expressed their displeasure there was even less. Even Ranboo, one of the newest, was fading from him. 

He lost their trust, and with their trust, his power went. Not that he had ended up wanting it anyway. He gave it to Fundy and let it be passed around like a play thing as he left off on his own mission. Fuck L’manberg. 

The day he left indefinitely was the day he saw Tommy again. But not really. Not in the same way. He acted differently. He looked differently. Faded and smaller, somehow. Less energetic, and less life the Tommy he knew. The one he left. He didn’t even remember Tubbo, at first. At least Wilbur remembered the good. Tommy, it seemed, didn’t have anything, except faint recognition. Like everything was always on the tip of his tongue, but not quite there. 

It was hell for the both of them, Tubbo came to realize. At first he tried to deny it. He was getting the discs back for the Tommy he knew, not whatever this thing was. Then, slowly, he sank into it. This thing was the Tommy he knew, just broken up. Pieces of him were missing, of course, but he still wanted to help. Even with no memory, the ghost clung onto Tubbo like he used to when the two were alive and stayed as loyal as ever. 

Getting the discs back proved to be a difficult task, but finally, as they got Dream on his knees, he caved in. The discs were finally in Tommy’s possession, but it wasn’t the same. 

“You worked so hard to get them back, Tubbo,” Tommy smiled, handing them back. “You should have them. 

Tubbo’s smile dropped and he pushed them back. “No, they’re _your_ discs.”

“I don’t remember these,” he admitted, looking back to them. “But I’ll hold onto them if you want me to.”

His lip quivered as he took a step back. “I…”

“Why do you look upset? We got what you wanted. Come on, this is a good day! What’s more is that Dream isn’t going to bother L’manberg anymore now, we have his word, isn’t that good?” He stopped to look at the two discs with pride before glancing back upwards. His mood shifted instantly, filled with confusion and a genuine concern. “Tubbo, why are you crying?”

After that it was almost back to square one. The thing he had won the discs back with- the thing he had brought down Dream with and the thing he had shared his life and pain with wasn’t his Tommy, and it never was. His Tommy escaped from him the moment he was exiled, and it was all his fault. The two went sadly back to L’manberg, their home. Or what was supposed to be that. To Tubbo it felt more like a grim reminder, and to Tommy, it was like he had never been there before. 

His eyes widened as he stepped into L’manberg and his smile came back. He was almost like a child on Christmas day. _‘Tubbo, look at this!’_ he yelled. _‘Tubbo, what is that?’_ he asked. There was no answer besides shrugs and dismissive grunts. Soon enough Tommy stopped asking questions, though he never stopped following. 

For days and days he followed Tubbo, talking to him as if nothing was wrong. Tubbo rarely talked back. When he did it was to tell him off or provide some sarcastic remark. All until one day he snapped. “You’re not Tommy! You’re not my friend, stop acting like you are! It’s getting annoying- why are you following me? Go bother someone else, go bother Ranboo or something, you guys were buddies! Jesus!” 

Tommy became quieter. He stopped moving and his face fell. His dead eyes looked a little bit colder. “What about the discs?” 

“I don’t care about the discs, man! I cared about _you!”_ His voice broke. “I cared about _Tommy_ but you’re _not_ him and I’m _not_ getting him back!” 

Just like that, the days grew quieter. Colder. Longer. Maybe it was simply the absence of someone like Tommy, or Tommy himself. Maybe it was just because of Tubbo and how he felt about it all. He rejected the power he was offered when came back. After all, it was all fine without him, why should he care? Why would he want to take it back? 

The next election was coming up, and Ranboo was leading. He didn’t remember who the new running mate Ranboo picked was. As long as it wasn’t him, he didn’t care. It was strange. There was once a time when all that mattered to him was the wellbeing of his nation. Now it wasn’t even a passing thought. 

After a while, the silence was deafening. All Tubbo had now was memories. They were loud, sharp and painful. He had to do something to shake them off- busy himself somehow. He started walking. Nowhere in particular, and for hours on end. Both on the inside and on the outside of L’manberg. Occasionally he caught himself walking towards the bench or towards Tommy’s old house, but he always stopped himself before he got there. 

Sometimes he even saw Tommy in passing, but wasn’t quite sure Tommy saw him. He didn’t call out either. Tommy was always with someone else, mostly it was Wilbur, whose unfinished business was a mystery to him. Perhaps it had to do with his son, and that’s why he was still there. Not that Tubbo minded it. He could stay as long as he liked, but Wilbur brought up a question Tubbo hadn’t asked himself quite yet. Why was Tommy still there?

For days after he asked himself he debated going to Tommy directly. He missed him, and he wouldn’t deny it. Time alone made him realize the gravity of what he said and how much he wanted to take it all back. But, again, he couldn’t. What’s done is done. He needed to make it right, or as right as he could. Starting, again, with the discs. 

It took him three days to build up the courage to go to Tommy’s rebuilt house. It was poorly made, with design choices that didn’t make sense and materials that clashed together, and lights and signs that Tommy would never put on his house himself. Yet there he was, building by himself, fixing a crooked sign and cleaning up some broken wood bits. Tubbo didn’t say anything for a few minutes, trying to find the right words before Tommy turned around and stopped. 

His eyes widened, then narrowed, then dropped, as if he went through ten emotions in the span of a single second. He may as well have. Tubbo was the same. A few painfully awkward seconds passed before Tommy spoke up. “Hi, Tubbo.”

“Hi, Tommy.” 

He waited for a while to see if Tubbo would say anything else. “What are you doing here?” 

“I just wanted to see how your house is coming along,” Tubbo lied. 

“Really?” said Tommy, seeing through his lie. Still, he turned around slightly to look at it. “Do you like it? I decorated it a bit.”

Tubbo forced a slight smile. “It’s nice. New.”

Tommy turned back around. “Would Tommy have put this shit on his house?”

For a minute Tubbo didn’t respond. _No. No he wouldn’t have._ “Well, I suppose, since you are Tommy, he would.” Tommy didn’t look convinced. Not that Tubbo could blame him. “Alive, you probably wouldn’t have.”

“Hmm,” Tommy hummed in agreement. “Seriously, what are you doing here?”

Tubbo sighed, biting the bullet. “Why did you agree to help me get the discs back if you didn’t remember what they were?”

“I wanted to help you.”

“Why?”

“I wanted to be with you.”

“Yeah, but why?”

“You were nice and friendly.”

Tubbo chuckled. “The first time I met you I told you to fuck off and called you a dumb memory,” he recalled. A sad smile overtook him. 

Tommy didn’t reply right away, thinking about something. Did he even know why he did it? Was it a game to him? “Something in me told me I wanted to. And when I was around you I enjoyed being around you.” He looked up from the ground to meet Tubbo’s gaze. “And I thought you enjoyed being around me.”

Silence was beginning to be a somewhat common thing between them, as Tubbo awkwardly looked back to the house. “Do you need help with the house?”

Tommy did as well. “I think I’m done for now. I think that’s it.”

“Looks good, Tommy.” 

Tommy looked back with a slight smile. “Thank you.”

“Do you still have the discs?” he asked quietly. 

He nodded. “Yeah, I kept them in a chest close to my bed.”

Tubbo furrowed his eyebrows. “Why do you have a bed? You don’t get tired.”

He chuckled. “I like to pretend.” When Tubbo didn’t respond with anything but a chuckle himself, Tommy looked back. “Why do you need the discs?”

“Can we get them?”

Without much word Tommy held up a finger, telling Tubbo to wait, and disappeared into the house. A few minutes later he was out with the both of them, handing them to Tubbo slowly, who took them carefully, as if they were fragile or sacred artifacts. He nodded forward, gesturing for Tommy to follow him. And the two walked silently to the bench. As he stopped, Tommy narrowed his eyebrows. He looked around, not quite understanding what was happening. “So, er, what now?” Tubbo sat on the left side of the bench. “We’d just sit down?” Tommy asked quizzically. 

Tubbo nodded, looking out to the distant setting sun. “Yeah, and watch the sunset.”

Tommy, however, looked at the object in his hands. “And listen to these discs?”

“Yeah. Want to put it in?” 

Grinning, Tommy put the disc inside the jukebox on the side of the bench, only waiting a few seconds for it to start playing. The tune was sweet and simple. Familiar, but he wasn’t sure where he had heard it before. It was like something that had just always been in the back of his mind. He hummed it to himself as he stumbled around trying to remember everything. 

However, it didn’t sooth him like he knew it should have. Something was still eating him alive. Slowly and carefully, but it was there, and he still didn’t know how to shake it off. He sat beside Tubbo. Though he didn’t realize it, his smile had dropped while Tubbo’s remained. “What do we do now?”

“Do you like it?” Tubbo asked eagerly. 

Tommy nodded. “The music is nice. Really calming.” 

“Yeah,” Tubbo agreed. He tried his best not to let himself lose hope. Tommy was in there. He was sure of it. “I thought you would be happier.”

“I am happy, Tubbo!” he stated. “Are you?”

Tubbo smiled at the question. “I’m ecstatic.”

“So…” Tommy trailed, looking into the distance. “Now what do we do?”

“We talk.”

He looked over. “What about?”

“Anything we want!” 

Tommy smiled, but didn’t say anything. Before an awkward silence settled in once more, Tubbo said the first thing on his mind. “I’m sorry I exiled you Tommy,” he sighed out. 

Tommy smiled. “Oh! That’s alright.” He shrugged, letting out a low chuckle. “I probably deserved it, let’s be honest. I can’t remember though. Did I?”

“I…” Tubbo started. He looked into Tommy’s eyes for only a few seconds before a guilt overtook him, and he looked back to the disc in his hands, staring at his distorted reflection. “I don’t know,” he said dejectedly. “On one hand, you kept creating problems and rushing headfirst into things. You thought with your heart, and sometimes that was admirable, but it put us all in danger some other times.” He ran his fingers over the disc. “When I exiled you, that was one of the times it put us in danger. You…” he trailed off before smiling to stop whatever he had bubbling inside of him. “You really messed things up, man.” 

“I’m sorry Tubbo.”

“On the other hand, I _really_ missed you. And I...we all had a plan to _not_ exile you, and I just…” He looked to Tommy quickly before facing forwards. “I thought I was doing what was best for New L’manberg.” 

Tommy nudged his shoulder with his own the best he could. It didn’t move him, it just felt cold. “I trust you.” They looked to each other. “I trust that you did the right thing.” He looked to the horizon, turning his head to take in everything. “The walls got taken down, didn’t they?”

“Yeah…” Tubbo hesitantly agreed. “But I lost the trust of the citizens, Tommy, and I lost my best friend.”

“Who was your best friend?”

Tubbo quieted. “You _are_ my best friend.” 

“Oh,” Tommy exclaimed in surprise. “Oh!” He smiled. “You’re my best friend too, Tubbo!” 

A wave of relief washed over him. “I am?”

Tommy nodded quickly. “Yeah, yeah, of course, man! I mean- I think- I can’t remember, but I think we were always best friends, weren’t we?” 

Tubbo nodded as well. “We were the closest.” The first thing he thought in the moment flew out of his mouth without him realizing. “I’m surprised you’re still here.” 

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t ghosts go away when their unfinished business is, well, finished?”

“Do you want me to go away?”

Tubbo looked at him quickly, putting his hands up slightly in his defence. “No! No! Not at all what I’m saying, I’m just confused. Pleasantly, but confused. We got the discs back and we’ve had them for a few weeks.” 

He looked to the jukebox, letting the song that was still playing hang in the air for a few seconds. “They must not be it then.” 

Tubbo held up the second disc, showing it off to Tommy. They both looked at it. “But you loved these discs! You dedicated everything to get them back, that’s what started this whole mess!”

Focusing on the object, he frowned. “These discs?”

“Yeah.”

He looked back at Tubbo, confused. “But they just play music.”

Tubbo couldn’t stop himself from laughing loudly. “I know! We could have listened to music some other way.”

Tommy snorted, responding to Tubbo’s sudden outburst. “But I was stubborn about it, I bet.”

Quickly, Tubbo nodded. “You were. But that was a good thing about you, Tommy.” He held the disc in both hands again, staring at it. “You knew what you wanted and you were determined and confident.” He sighed, placing it back on his lap. “I couldn’t be that.”

“Wh- are you kidding?” said Tommy defensively, raising his voice slightly. It felt so much like Tommy. Like he had never changed. “You ran a nation! You were president, Tubbo! I could never be president.”

“A pretty shit president,” Tubbo commented. 

“I know, I’d be terrible.”

Tubbo laughed and shook his head slightly. “I was talking about me, Tommy.”

“I think you did well.” He gestured to the horizon- to all of L’manberg. “Everything’s still standing, isn’t it? And I bet Ranboo’s going to be a brilliant president too. You must be excited.”

He nodded in agreement. “I am, I am. I think he’ll do great.” 

The two sat in silence once again for a minute, but it wasn’t as awkward as Tubbo had anticipated. It was kind of nice, actually. In a way, he wanted it to stay like that forever. But just as if Tommy heard his thoughts, he let out a content sigh. “I don’t think I’m going to be here for much longer.”

Tubbo looked at him, not understanding. “You have to go somewhere?”

He didn’t look away from the sunset. “Home.”

“What do you mean?” Tubbo asked. “We’re in L’manberg and we’d have to rebuild your house. In the meantime you could live with me.”

Tommy slowly looked over to him, and the moment their eyes meant, it clicked. “That’s not what I meant.” 

“You’re leaving me?”

He smiled. “I’m tired.” Tubbo blinked, letting tears bridge his eyes. 

“I don’t understand,” he said, though he understood it well. He tried to chuckle, calling back to what he said at Tommy’s house. “You don’t get tired.”

“I’ve been tired for a while. Being a ghost is surprisingly exhausting.”

Tubbo didn’t know how to respond. He looked up, blinking everything away, but every five seconds tears came back, blurring his vision, but never falling. “I thought…” He closed his eyes for a few seconds, taking a breath. “I don’t know, we had the discs for so long, I thought you’d just be here. Like, forever. You know?”

“I know.”

Tubbo looked to him. “Why now?”

“Tubbo, we’re friends, right?”

He laughed sadly, his voice breaking as he looked to the sky. “The best.” 

“I love you.”

Tubbo turned back around to face Tommy and was promptly met with an open seat and open sky. He stalled for a few seconds before turning behind himself, only to see that no one was there either. “Tommy?” Though part of him wanted to, he didn’t get up from where he was sitting and only continued to look around in slight distress for another minute before slumping in his seat and turning towards the sun. He wiped his cheek with his sleeve as the music halted. He was gone. Resting somewhere, finally. 

It was a good thing, he reminded himself. _Tommy deserves it._ A child veteran who had seen enough death and betrayal to last him his entire lifetime. And he- both of them- deserved to move on. Tubbo took a shallow breath, shaking in place as more tears started to trail down his cheeks. Despite it, he bit his lip, and tried to smile, gripping the disc in his hands. “I love you too, Tommy.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing suggestions are always open! If you suggest a ship that's not DNF note that I will probably delete your comment, nothing NSFW or weird (for the love of GOD they may be characters but they parallel with the real world people so much that I literally do not care) and please include a TW or CW if you need to :) Thank you!


	2. See You Soon

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> AU where Tubbo and Tommy die with L'manberg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this on mobile, sorry if it's shit

Dying is a really funny thing. You don't get a say in anything that happens after it, and no one really knows how it works out the way it does. Some people stay in shells of their former selves while others come back as almost entirely new people with new memories and new outlooks. Some people come back for a specific reason, and they understand exactly what it is and how to achieve their goal. Some people have no idea, and are forced to roam a world that has no fundamental use for them until the realize how to retire. Finally, some people don't come back at all. 

Trying to understand it all is confusing and exhausting. One might drive themselves mad looking at every outcome and trying to reason through it. It's better to just let it occur naturally and ride whatever comes next as it lays out before you. Sure, death is stubborn, unreasonable, and harsh, but if life teaches anything, it teaches you that the best way to deal with the unmovable and unchangeable is to be open, relaxed, and optimistic. Which is exactly what Tubbo and Tommy had done. 

Although they were young and had much more life laid out for them, when death looked them in the eyes and called their names and they knew they could not move in any way that would have saved them from a fate many seek to save themselves from, they only held each other, accepting whatever came next. 

Exhaustion was partially to blame for the rather strange acceptance of something so feared. They were tired of running, fighting, arguing, bleeding, especially when, at times, it felt like that was all they did. They were caught in a vicious cycle of hurt and suffering as they paved the way for something more. In the end the trauma of their victories and failures weighed heavy on them. When they fell, you could almost hear a sigh of relief escape them, and you could almost see the corners of their mouths tilt upwards. 

It was a bittersweet end. Satisfying in the way that the two were finally at rest after all they had been through and all they had been forced to carry and after being exposed to things no one should have been. Unfortunate in the way that all they had experienced was as it had been. The two had barely had childhoods, being thrown into war at such young ages and pushed into positions of power they had been completely unprepared and unqualified for. They had been betrayed, pushed around, manipulated, and robbed time and time again, up to their dying breaths. It was all they had ever known. 

And even after death, it seemed the two weren't done in their work. However, neither had a clue of what it was. In fact, they could not remember much, only that they had died together, lived together, and once ruled over a land that was no longer standing. They recognized the faces of people who they once helped and loved and who had once helped and loved them, but not much else. The bad and good, for better and for worse, was gone. It was very much the start of a new life. 

Months after the two woke up dead, they wandered into the forests, away from everyone they had remembered in search of a place they could call home, had stumbled upon someone who they did not recognize. And who had not recognized them. 

"Hello!" Tubbo said excitedly upon seeing the stranger. Tommy pulled him backwards slightly, much less enthusiastic, and a bit more skeptical. 

"Shhh, shhhh-" he let out. "Who's that?" 

The stranger turned around, squinting at the two. He was painted black and white, dressed in a blue button up shirt and cloak styled in a way that was somewhat familiar, and carried an odd mixture or comfort and dread. "Uhhh...hello?" he answered in a much deeper voice than Tommy had prepared to hear. 

"Who are you?" Tubbo asked. 

Tommy didn't let go of Tubbo’s arm, hiding behind him even though he was much taller. "Shhh. Shhhhh-" 

"Ranboo," the stranger answered. "Who are you?" 

"I'm Tubbo!" 

Though Tommy hesitated, he eventually spoke as well when Ranboo glanced towards him expectantly. "Tommy." 

None of them spoke for a few seconds afterward. Ranboo held an axe in his left hand with a sack of twigs thrown over his right shoulder and very awkwardly tried to readjust how he held the bag before comfortably slipping back into the position he held before. "You two look, uhhh-" 

"Dead?" Tubbo interrupted. Tommy grinned. 

"Familiar," Ranboo finished. "But also dead." 

Tubbo gasped. "You look familiar! That's why I said something about it. Did you live in L'manberg?" 

Ranboo looked as if he was trying to remember something. "Yeah, I think so." 

Tommy raised his eyebrows. "You think so?" 

Ranboo looked almost pained for a second, then almost ashamed of himself. "I kept a book about it. A memory book, but…I ended up having to make a new one, and I decided to just move on." He shook his head slightly with his eyes towards the ground. "No sense in remembering things that made me unhappy." 

He looked back to Tommy and Tubbo. Tubbo looked sad, but behind him, Tommy’s arms were crossed, and an expression of indifference covered his face. "I have another one but it doesn't have anything about L’manberg in it. I'm sorry." 

"So you don't remember us?" Tubbo asked gently. 

"No, I'm sorry." 

He looked to Tommy for a second, but did not get any meaningful response before turning to Ranboo. "Did we make you sad?" 

Ranboo let out a low hum. "I don't think so. I mean, there must have been good things about you if you look familiar." 

Tubbo thought about his response for a second or two before smiling again. "I suppose so." He started moving backwards and waved on his way. As he passed Tommy, he, too, started to walk the same direction. "See you, Ranboo!" 

Ranboo’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the grip on his bag tightened. "See you?" he called back out. Just as quickly and suddenly as they snuck up on him, they were gone. He wondered, for a second or two, if he had imagined the whole exchange. 

However, he had recognized them in one way or another. Maybe from whatever past he didn’t remember. The ‘L’manberg’ they spoke about might have been the secret place Ranboo had always imagined going back to. If he could ever remember where that was. He stood in the snow for a few more minutes, trying to make sense of all that had happened in his head and coming to the conclusion that whatever he saw was real, before shrugging it all off and walking home. 

A week later, almost exactly, he had been sent out with Techno to look for food, but had gotten himself lost on the way. Instead of looking for Techno, he decided to make the most of it, looking for fallen apples and stray animals. Unfortunately, the winter was getting harsher, and even the animals Ranboo had usually found in the woods were nowhere to be seen. He had only picked up five apples and gotten his hands on one pig before he heard a noise behind him, yelling enthusiastically; "Hey, it's Ranboo!" 

Recognizing the voice as Tubbo, Ranboo turned himself to see Tubbo with one hand in the air like he had been waving, but was now distracted by Tommy. He couldn’t hear what the two were talking about until he had stepped closer. And even then, he only caught the last sentence Tubbo let out before Tommy looked to him. "I think he's good." 

"Yeah, I'm- I'm good. I mean, as good as I know." 

Tubbo smiled again. "Hi Ranboo!" 

"Hi Tubbo and Tommy." 

Tommy looked surprised, grinning only a bit with Tubbo’s smile only got wider. He looked more excited than surprised. "You remembered us!" 

Ranboo nodded slightly. "I wrote about you. To remember you. I didn't know if you would come back though.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, maybe seeing ghosts near the forest was a one time occurrence.” 

Tubbo chuckled. “Lucky for you, it’s not!” 

“Luckily,” Ranboo let out, chuckling as well. 

“So, what are you doing Ranboo?”

He held up a closed pack full of mostly apples, though no one could really tell. “Gathering food.”

Tubbo balled up his fists in excitement, bringing them close to his chest. “Oh! We can help! Be right back!” As he said so, he started to run leftwards, and disappeared into the trees. Tommy and Ranboo only watched him go. 

“Oh-ok, bye Tubbo,” he let out, but at that point, Tubbo was already gone. He turned back to Tommy, who was looking him up and down, as if Ranboo had already done something wrong. “What’s wrong?”

He hesitated. “There’s something about you. Like your clothes. What’s up with those?”

Ranboo looked to his boots, then loosely grabbed the left side of his cape, lifting it ever so slightly off his shoulder, to look at it properly. He looked to Tommy again, confused. “My clothing?”

“Mm,” Tommy nodded.

He let go of his cape, holding the pack with both hands now. “Phil made these for me.”

For a second or two, the expression on Tommy’s face shifted into a mixture of sadness and betrayal, before wiping away into the same indifference he had shown before. “I don’t know who that is.”

“Phil is...I’m living with him...Phil and Technoblade. You could meet them if you want.”

“I don’t want to meet them,” he answered quickly. 

“Alright.” After that had been settled, he drew in a sharp breath. “Do you hate me?”

Tommy didn’t even think about it. “What a stupid question,” he started. Before Ranboo could get a word in, Tommy continued. “The only way I could ever hate you is if I knew who you were, but I don’t know, I only have intuition and shit now or whatever so don’t mess up.”

Ranboo stuttered, taken aback by Tommy’s answer, which was nowhere close to what he expected. “My- my bad.” 

“Look!” An excited voice drew both Tommy and Ranboo’s attention before the two could settle fully back into uncomfortable silence. Tubbo was running towards them, arms full of sticks, weeds, and flowers. “I got you some food!” he said triumphantly. Amused, Ranboo let Tubbo shove them into his arms. Tommy snorted. “Awww, Tommy,” Tubbo whined upon seeing his friend empty handed. “You didn’t find anything,” 

Seeing Tubbo lose his smile, Ranboo quickly came up with an excuse. “N- He gave me an apple.” 

Like it had never fallen, Tubbo picked up his smile rapidly. “Really? Oh, that’s wonderful!”

For a second, Tommy and Ranboo locked eyes. Just as Ranboo thought Tommy appreciated saving his face, he exhaled. “No I didn’t. He lied.”

“Oh. I-” Before Ranboo could defend himself, Tommy turned around and walked off. 

“Oh, well,” Tubbo started before seeing Tommy walk away. He turned to look at him. Tommy didn’t get but five steps before stopping to look back to Tubbo, obviously waiting. “Oh-” Tubbo quickly walked up to him in a way that he was still facing Ranboo, but as soon as Tommy saw that Tubbo was beside him, he started to move again. “Well that’s ok! I guess we’re going now.” He waved before turning around. “See you, Ranboo!”

“Bye...guys…” 

For months without end, Tommy and Tubbo visited Ranboo, always somehow avoiding being spotted by Phil or Techno. And though he wasn’t sure anything bad would come of it, Ranboo did not tell them about his visits with the ghosts. Something inside him told him that he shouldn’t for Tommy’s sake. He was sure that Tommy remembered them somewhat, but couldn’t remember what they had done to each other. 

As they visited,Tommy dropped his guard somewhat, but still seemed wary of Ranboo. Tubbo, however, continued to be as lively as ever, stating that he trusted Ranboo completely, considering him one of his closest friends. He didn’t know if this was the best idea. He didn’t know if he deserved it. Tommy, however, made his stance clear. He didn’t. Ranboo wasn’t sure if he had done anything to Tommy before he died, and it wasn’t like Tommy could remind him if he had. He just had to pray it wasn’t something terrible. 

They had never traveled over to his house, however. The visits were almost always inside or around the edge of the forest, almost like that was the only place Tommy and Tubbo ever hung about. Like they didn’t have a place of their own yet. And they were almost always looking. He wondered more and more about L’manberg. He had come to the conclusion that he used to live there, and that Tubbo and Tommy lived there as well. He had figured out that,though it wasn’t all Ranboo had known, it meant everything to Tommy and Tubbo. But he had yet to figure out where it was or why they hadn’t gone there yet. 

More curiously, why Tommy and Tubbo didn’t live there anymore. Something bad must have happened to L’manberg. Something like…

“Ranboo, Ranboo, Ranboo!” Tubbo interrupted, running straight to Ranboo and stopping him before he left the forest. 

He smiled. “Tubbo, Tubbo, Tubbo!”

Tubbo giggled and bounced once as he stopped near Ranboo. “That’s a fun way to greet people, isn’t it?” 

“It is,” Ranboo agreed. 

“Anyway, I need your help.”

He rested his axe against a tree. “With what?”

“Well, we found a blue sheep.”

Ranboo raised his eyebrows as the spark of a lost memory lit somewhere back in his mind. “A blue sheep?”

Tubbo nodded slowly.“Yes. Tommy keeps calling it his friend, or just friend, actually, and said he’s Wilbur’s, but I don’t know who Wilbur is, and Tommy doesn’t know where Wilbur is.”

“Wil- you mean Ghostbur?”

“Who’s that?”

He stuttered for a second before realizing how long it’s actually been since anyone has seen Ghostbur. Ranboo didn’t even know if Tubbohad met him in this form. “Another ghost, why are there so many ghosts here? God. But I haven’t seen him since,”  _ L’manburg…  _ He shook the thought away. It stung. He didn’t want to know. “I haven’t seen him in a while.” 

Tubbo perked up a bit. “Oh, so he is real! I thought he was just crazy.” He chuckled under his breath before asking again. “Can you help me?”

“You still haven’t really told me with what,” he stated as he grabbed his axe again. Whatever it was, he would help, but it was probably best to put back his stuff before he did. He started walking towards the small house he stayed in, planning to avoid Techno’s entirely. He didn’t think Tubbo would recognize it, but the closer he got, the more of a possibility it was.

“Oh! To find Tommy. He went to go find Wilbur. Which is surprising, because I don’t think I’ve ever been without Tommy, but he left hours ago, and I just have no clue.” 

Ranboo nodded in acknowledgement. “Let me get some things.”

Tubbo started following close behind.“Ok! I’ll follow you!” It wasn’t like it was a super long walk from where they were back to the houses, but it was a distance. Tubbo commented on the scenery up until he set eyes on the houses. “You live here?” 

“Yeah,” Ranboo confirmed at his doorway. He nodded to the left. “We have a bunch of dogs back there.” 

Tubbo looked towards where Ranboo had nodded. “Awwwe!” 

Before opening the door, Ranboo stopped, suddenly remembering something he shouldn’t have been able to. “And a bee farm. You like bees, right?” 

Suddenly, Tubbo turned back to him in shock. “BEES?” Before Ranboo could confirm,Tubbo sprinted off. Ranboo only caught a glimpse of him running towards Techno’s house. So much for keeping him away. But he didn’t seem disturbed, and Techno wasn’t around. It should be fine. He scoffed and smiled to himself as he walked inside and stored away the wood he had collected. He hung his axe on the wall and grabbed a lead from one of his chests before leaving to find Tubbo again. 

He was awestruck, staring through the glass with wide eyes and a wider smile. Occasionally a bee bumped its head on the glass, making Tubbo’s own head tilt ever so slightly. Ranboo swore he could see light come back to his eyes. “Look at them all, just going about their day in their little shelter, Ranboo. It’s so cute, they just look happy!” 

Ranboo stood beside Tubbo, staring at the bee farm as well. “We do take care of our bees.” 

A few moments later Ranboo gently nudged Tubbo’s shoulder, notifying him that it was time to go out, and Tubbo started to recall where he had last seen Tommy. However, his word wasn’t the most reliable, taking them though a few different biomes and two villages. Not that Ranboo minded. Techno and Phil were doing their own things elsewhere and wouldn’t be home for a while. He had time to spare. 

Tubbo, on the other hand, became increasingly more worried as time went on. Although the sun was high in the sky, every few minutes or so, Ranboo could count on Tubbo to tell him that  _ eventually  _ it was going to get dark. He reassured him the best he could and tried to distract him with meaningless conversation, but at a certain point Tubbo stopped caring. He became eerily silent, focused on his task. 

Very suddenly, as Ranboo decided to look between some fallen trees, Tubbo gasped excitedly. When Ranboo turned around, Tubbo was already half running and half floating to a blue colored sheep. “That’s Friend!” he exclaimed before looking around. His face fell. “But no Tommy.” He knelt and grabbed the sides of Friend’s head to look him in the eyes. “Do you know where Tommy is, Friend?”

“I don’t think Friend can speak, Tubbo. I think he’s just a sheep.” Ranboo calmly made his way to the two and tied the lead around Friend. Tubbo looked up to Ranboo, disappointed. 

“But where’s Tommy?”

Ranboo sighed. “I don’t know.”

“This isn’t good,” Tubbo commented as he stood up. “I’ve never not known where Tommy is.” Tubbo stopped floating, planting his feet onto the ground. He didn’t do it often, but when he did, Ranboo was always surprised with how tall he was in comparison. Ranboo smiled, attempting to reassure Tubbo once more.

“We’ll find him, Tubbo. Maybe he’s with Ghostbur already.” He started walking after feeling a slight tug on the lead. “I’ll be nice to see him again.” It felt a bit silly to follow a sheep, but Friend was their best bet at the moment. Not even Tubbo knew where else to go. 

There were only a few moments of silence between them as the sheep continued walking ahead, taking them through the forest in curves and circles. “We were bad memories, weren’t we?” Tubbo said.

Ranboo didn’t answer right away. “Why do you say that?”

“You remember Ghostbur just fine. I don’t even remember who that is.”

Again, Ranboo took his time. He couldn’t say for sure what they were. There were definitely bad feelings attached to both Tubbo and Tommy, but really good feelings as well. They were friends once, weren’t they? They had fun together. Not all was bad. “I think you were confusing memories.”

“I don’t know what we could have done.”

“I don’t either,” Ranboo shared. He glanced back down to Tubbo. “But we can make some more memories, right?” Tubbo looked to him as well. “I’ll write these ones down, I promise.” They smiled at each other the best they could before Ranboo was pulled forward and Friend had let out a loud bleat. 

As they looked forward, sitting against the back of a tree, Tommy lifted his head. “Friend?” he called out in surprise before shooting up and sprinting to where Tubbo and Ranboo stood. “Tubbo!” 

“Tommy!” Tubbo yelled back as Tommy basically fell onto him. The two hugged each other tightly and in silence for several seconds until Ranboo cleared his throat, which only made Tubbo look at him and pull him into a hug as well. “Ranboooo!” 

Ranboo was so shocked Tubbo could actually touch him, that he didn’t feel Tommy slip away. As soon as Tubbo let go of him, Ranboo noticed that Tommy was staring right at him with another face of indifference before he sighed and looked to Friend. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled. “I couldn’t find Wilbur.”

Though Tubbo looked as if he wanted to say something, he didn’t. Ranboo, instead, spoke up. “I’m sorry.”

Tommy ignored him, istead backing himself up to another snow covered and much bigger tree, with a clear patch underneath. As soon as he sat down, Tubbo and Friend followed. “I thought if I had Friend he would come back.”

“Where did he go?”

Tommy let out a strained laugh. “I can’t remember.” He pressed his palm to his forehead as Tubbo leaned on his shoulder and Friend curled up and put his head on Tommy’s lap. “I can’t remember shit, Ranboo.”

“Yeah.” He walked to the other side of Tommy and sat down. Tommy didn’t protest or move. “Neither can I.” 

“Me too,” Tubbo related. He suddenly gasped and his head shot up. He looked to Ranboo and Tommy, who’s eyes were on him. “We can be like the bad memory trio!” 

It took only half a second for Ranboo to start laughing. Tommy followed. “The brain don’t work gang.” 

“The…” Ranboo started. Even Friend seemed to look towards him, waiting for a name, but nothing came to mind. “I don’t know…” he finally let out. Tubbo started to laugh as well. Grinning, Ranboo looked over to Tommy. “We can be friends?” 

“We can get there.”

Content with his answer, Ranboo leaned back against the tree. “Ok.” 

It only took a few more minutes for Ranboo to forget about meeting Techno and Phil once they got home, something he had been wanting to do. However, how many days were like this? He rarely talked to anyone else, although he had been planning on one day reuniting with everyone he forgot. It seemed like Tommy and Tubbo just happened to be the first. He let himself relax as conversation flowed naturally, until a faint sizzling noise interrupted them. 

He looked toward the noise to see Tubbo look upwards towards the tree. “Is it snowing?”

Ranboo looked out, beginning to see small snowflakes. “Starting to, why?”

Tommy instantly got up, taking Friend’s lead. “That’s our cue.”

“To what?”

“To go somewhere it’s not snowing. Or raining,” Tubbo explained.

“We’ll melt.”

Ranboo waited a second to stand up as well. “We just sat under a snowy tree- were you just tempting fate this entire time?”

Tommy grinned. “Relax.”

Tubbo nodded in agreement. “What’s life without a little risk?”

“You’re dead, Tubbo,” Ranboo let out in a deadpanned fashion. 

He chuckled, smiling. “I know.” 

As always, the first to walk away was Tommy, with Tubbo following closely behind. However, just as Ranboo was getting ready to head back to his house, Tommy turned back to face him. He nodded once. “See you soon, Ranboo.”

Ranboo smiled. “See you soon, Tommy. Tubbo.” With that, the two disappeared into the forest once again, and for the first time in a long time, Ranboo was sure he would remember the encounter as he walked all the way back


	3. Death Dances Too

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When he was younger, Fundy picked up the piano

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She was a SHAPESHIFTER and I will DIE on this hill. This is an invitation for Wilbur Soot and Wilbur Soot only to participate in hand to hand combat at dawn in an empty Waffle House parking lot

There was an old piano Eret had tucked away in one of the towers. 

Fundy had no idea that Eret even had the thing in the castle in the first place, but then again, why would she not? Everything you could ever want was in the castle, from library rooms to a pool in the back. Finding the piano wasn’t shocking in the slightest. What was, however, was the rush of emotion Fundy felt upon seeing the thing. 

It was fancy. Obviously expensive and a good bit taller than what Fundy had previously thought when he stood in the doorway of a room he had yet to explore. He hesitantly took two steps forward before stopping, letting his breath catch in his throat. It was just a piano. He had seen others around L’manberg, of course, but none like this. 

Polished rosewood, decorated with the engravings of leaves on its side- a detail Fundy would have missed if he hadn’t stopped walking towards it. Some of the patterns were lined with chipped gold, telling him that even though the piano looked almost new there had been some wear. The petals were worn out as well. Brass and in need of shining. He wondered how long the piano had stayed up here. Who played it lost. How it was taken care of, or if it was taken care of at all. 

Yes, he had seen others, much smaller and rustic, usually upright and worn out, but playable, so he had no idea why this one in particular grabbed at him. Perhaps it was simply the surprise. He didn’t expect to find it. He didn’t know what he expected to find, really, but pianos were so far removed from his mind. If anything he guessed he would stumble upon a weapons room. Maybe another library. 

Did Eret play piano? Did anyone in the castle? Fundy took two more steps forward. Did  _ he  _ remember how to? Half of him wanted to see, while the other half wanted to walk out as quickly as possible. It was ridiculous. It was just a piano. He had grown up playing. He had enjoyed playing. Nothing about the sight should have made him feel the way he did. It was just...bigger than he was used to. Sophisticated. That wasn’t wrong. 

Fighting with himself the entire way, he took a few more clouded steps towards the piano, and with each step he noticed more details. The way the wood looked more and more like marble on each side and the way some of the leaves didn’t have gold in them at all. There were also a few small scratches he hadn’t noticed from afar.  _ It had a history _ . He could ask about it later. If he even wanted too. 

Finally, he was close enough to touch the sides. He felt along the ridges of the leaves with his left hand while his right hovered over the keys. Slowly, without thinking much about it, he sat down on the cushioned piano bench, which did not make any noise as he did so, and tapped a key. It had been too light to make any sound. If anything, he just rested his finger above it, not sure what he should do next. 

It took a few seconds for him to finally decide. He pushed down, listening to the note. A second later, he tapped another, and listened to it. A few more seconds passed before playing a simple progression. He stopped. His heart skipped a beat. He hadn’t fully registered what he was doing before he did it. The tops of his knuckles seemed cold for a split second. Bare. 

When he was too young to understand anything but that the sound of the piano was calming, his mother held him on his lap and let him put his fingers on the keys. She would move he hand over his own and apply the weight needed to actually make any noise. The first time it happened, Fundy smiled. The second time it happened, he giggled. The third time, he laughed, as did his mother. 

_ You did it!  _ She guided his hands to applause. 

Fundy smiled at the faint memory the best he could, playing the chord progression again, just as his mother guided him. Slowly, this time, feeling each note and listening to the sounds that followed. His mother had been a talented pianist, and loved to show off her skill. He could remember her playing the piano for him as she let him rest in her lap, barely tall enough to see the keys properly. Maybe that’s why he had grown to love it as much as she did. 

As he grew, he would sit beside her and watch, and when the time came that he wanted to learn, she taught him eagerly. At first, Fundy was nervous. His mother wasn’t harsh by a long shot, but he knew how much she loved what she did, and was afraid of getting it wrong. He wasn’t afraid of her however, he only realized years into his teenage-hood. He was afraid of embarrassment. Maybe he would let her down in some sort of way. 

Maybe that was why, once his mother had taught him the basics, he refused to let her help him much. He wanted to make her proud. He took the old pieces she had kept, studying them almost religiously. 

Though, just because he didn’t want her to help didn’t mean that she stayed out of the way completely. Every time Fundy learned something new or was practicing an old piece, he dragged his mother and father into the living room to watch him play. They always applauded his work after he was finished. Always so very proud. 

Getting better meant that his father could learn whatever his son was playing on his guitar and play along, and his mother, knowing the pieces by heart, would hum, or if she could, sing. Those were always his favorite memories of when his family was together. Back when they were happy. Back before Sally disappeared abruptly. Back before Wilbur decided he had better things to do than listen to his son on the piano. Back before Phil and Tommy started to leave him alone as well, the rest of his living family. 

Before L’manberg and the wars and the trails and before…

Before Wilbur…

He played it once more. Somehow slower and softer, until nothing could be heard. 

Though he wouldn’t consider his family poor, while he grew up he wasn’t exactly a rich kid. They maintained a stable living situation and Fundy always had clothes and food. He had toys, his own room, there was a piano in the living room, even if it was chipped and old. It wasn’t flashy or big and the keys threw themselves out of tune way too often, despite how well it was kept up with. Unlike the one he was playing now, which was almost perfectly in tune, save for a few notes here and there. Maybe that’s what tugged at him about the piano. 

However, neither Fundy nor his parents needed anything like that to be happy. At least in the beginning. They had each other. They had their humor, their music, their spirits, and their emotions. That was enough, wasn’t it? 

A memory that stuck out in his brain like a sore thumb was one where his parents had been making dinner. Some kind of soup he couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of and a peach cobbler. He had started playing a song he improvised. It didn’t sound the best, but it was his, and despite its flaws, at some point Wilbur and Sally stopped what they were doing and started talking to each other. They had started giggling and trying to hum along to the improvised tune, and when Fundy dared to look back, almost convinced they were making fun of him, he saw them dancing. 

Replaying the memory, Fundy attempted to replicate the song, but couldn’t go fast enough. He paused a few times, letting out some shallow breaths in an attempt to remember correctly. At some point, he started to get a sort of hang of it, not playing one hundred percent correctly, but doing what he could. In the beginning, that was fantastic, but quickly, he started to get frustrated. It wasn’t how he remembered. It wasn’t how he wanted. 

In his head he saw his parents dance. He heard them whisper sweet nothings to each other, and promises he knows now that they couldn’t keep. He faintly recalled the smell of the soup and the feel of the chair he sat on. Hard and rickety. He had no idea why no one would replace it. 

But before he could go on remembering, he played a sour note.

_ Wilbur was dead.  _

He tried to restart the scene, as if he was seeing it for the first time. Everything as it should be. His parents were dancing. The house was clean. The food smelled nice. It was warm inside. There was a sort of calmness settled in his heart. He was back on track again. For a second. His hand stayed a little too far to the left.

_ Sally was missing.  _

Fundy’s eyes were focused on the keys, frantically looking around for the next right note, slowly forgetting how the song went. Something stung in his eye, but he was too stubborn to notice it.

_ Nobody trusted him.  _

A section just didn’t sound right. His parents were happy. They were happy and they were alive and he was happy and they loved him and they were together-

_ Nobody wanted anything to do with him.  _

He started to play faster, and with it came more sour notes. Wilbur would read to him every night and Sally taught him how to swim and Tommy, only a bit older than Fundy, would do his best to help calm him down when he woke up crying and Techno would eventually cave in and give him piggy back rides everywhere and-

_ The ones he cared about would leave him eventually.  _

Was he pushing on the keys too harshly? His fingers hurt. Why did they hurt? He loved to go on walks with them. He loved to go to the park. He always loved the outdoors. He loved collecting flowers for his friends and family. He loved the piano. He loved music. He loved how they came together. 

_ They hated him.  _

His family was perfect. His life was perfect. When he was young he thought they were indestructible. They would be like that forever. That’s how you think you’re a kid. Everything will be like this all the time forever. 

_ He was wrong.  _

Fundy stopped playing, letting tears flow down his cheeks. He couldn’t make a sound, however. The room was painfully silent for minutes. Right until Fundy couldn’t stand it anymore. He tapped at a key and waited a second before doing it again. Then again. Then again. Then again.

He had no idea what he was doing.  _ Something.  _ Something was better than sitting and thinking about everything all at once. Not just the past. There was a certain pattern that he could make out. Sally left. Wilbur left. Dream left. Tubbo doesn’t listen to him. Tommy doesn’t care. His friends will leave. Ghostbur will leave. Eret will leave. And he won’t know what to do. 

…

_ Improvise. _

Huh?

_ The song was improvised.  _

Oh…

He started to play what he remembered again, slowly and almost as if he wasn’t sure playing again was the right choice, until he got to a section he couldn’t remember. He paused. His parents were dancing. The house was clean. The food smelled nice. It was warm inside. There was a sort of calmness settled in his heart.

_ Improvise.  _

The keys he went to might have been the ones he went to when he was younger, but they might have not been. 

_ I just improvise.  _ Wilbur said, strumming at his guitar.  _ When I don’t know what’s supposed to come next? I improvise.  _ He shrugged.  _ If it sounds good…  _

It sounds good.

The notes that came next were absolutely not what he played when he was younger. But that’s ok, he thinks. They sound good. 

He took a shaking breath as he continued, and as he continued the song he continued to remember, but he remembered something else. 

When he was three he realized that he didn’t like dressing as his mom did. When he was five he realized he didn’t like being called a girl or being associated with girly things. When he was seven he learned what a tomboy was, and declared that he hated the color pink and long hair. When he was ten he figured out he was oddly happy when people mistook him for a boy. It was only when he was thirteen that he realized what that meant. 

He stuttered through the conversation at fifteen years old, nervous and sitting down and shaking. He wasn’t sure exactly what to say. They had grown up with a little girl. He had grown up as a little girl. What if he was making a mistake? What if they thought he was making a mistake? Half of him wanted to go back and say that he didn’t actually want to talk to them or come up with another bullshit excuse to get away. Half of him wanted him to stay. 

Although that half had eventually won the battle, screwing his feet in place, he still had no idea what to say. He must have started with ten different topics before getting to the point, and even then it was jumbled and difficult. The entire time his head was screaming so many different things at him. It told him to change the subject. It told him to stay on track. It told him to come out and say it straight already. It told him that he was alone. That they didn’t like him. That no one liked him. 

Fundy started playing a bit faster. It was nowhere near what the old song was. The old song was slower and much softer. Not to say that this was the most jovial song that Fundy had played or even that he was in the mood to play one, but it was a bittersweet tune this time instead of just sweet. It was new. It was different. He was improvising. He softly smiled through the falling tears, making no effort to stop either of the expressions.

They smiled as well. Wilbur leaned forward and hugged his son, letting him fall into his lap. Sally rubbed his back. They asked him what his name was. 

He remembers after Sally disappeared how he played- how he  _ improvised  _ for Wilbur, but he didn’t care. Not really. He always said he did, but there was something else hiding behind his eyes. He smiled for Fundy, but Fundy could tell they were fake. He laughed, but Fundy could always tell that it was because he wanted to scream instead. He spoke kindly to Fundy, but he sometimes wondered if that just was because Sally was around for him to speak kindly too.

He remembers birthdays. The before and after. The good and bad. He remembers cake and presents with mom and dad. He remembers a cake slice alone in his room and a green sweater Wilbur gave to him from his own closet, saying  _ I’m sorry for forgetting.  _

He remembers Techno lifting him up and tossing him into water lightly. He remembered how hard he laughed and how amused Techno was every time he swam back. He remembers when Phil and Techno stopped visiting. He remembers when they stopped smiling so warmly every time he walked into the room. 

He remembers so much of what he lost and what he unfortunately gained with every hit of a new key. The tune reminded him. Pianos always did. He didn’t know if he hated them or not, but at least he still knew how to play. 

Wilbur was dead.

…

Sally might have been dead. 

…

His family was dead. 

Everything dies, doesn’t it? Even moments. So what made them worth having?

Fundy paused in his playing, but knew he wouldn’t be satisfied leaving the song how it was. It was broken, ending abruptly. It wasn’t a perfect song by any means. It was messy and hard to listen to at times, like the last one had been, but it was new. It was his. It deserved a good ending. He started playing slowly, deciding to let the song fade softly. He wouldn’t remember it, of course. Maybe bits and pieces, but not the whole song. That was fine. He could always make another one. 

The memories would always be with him, for better or for worse. Most of the time for worse. Not that they weren’t fond or that he wished he never remembered them, but because they were something he could never have again. He recalls someone telling him to cherish the memories, and that it was better to have and have lost than to never have at all. He doesn’t know if that’s quite true. Then again, he can’t tell you if it were false either. 

So much pain and heartbreak had surrounded his family and himself and continues to surround himself. Not that he means to be so melancholy or downhearted; things could always change for the better, of course, and maybe one day looking back won’t be as painful. There will still always be some misery surrounding it as there usually always is with old memories, but one day it will be something he understands. He will be able to make it new. Maybe alongside Eret. Maybe alongside friends such as Niki and Ranboo. Maybe when this all ends, one day. 

He can’t see that future as is, but there was always hope burning inside him. Small as it is, diminished by war and heartache. Neglect and abandonment and fear. So much fear. But it was there, and he was determined to hold onto it. One day, when the fighting comes to an end, when everyone makes peace, when the bad has finally been calmed and the good no longer have to worry, he will play, and his friends will dance and sing and be happy for however long they can. They will sleep and they will laugh and joke and eat and read and hold onto each other and cry without fear for as long as time will let them. 

But Fundy remembers this song, and can only hope that one day comes soon. While he plays and recounts the days his father and mother left behind him, he can’t help but remind himself that death dances too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why the fuck did I think listening to Mitski while writing this was a good idea


End file.
